


Like His Father

by crookedneighbour



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Ableist Language, Begging, Drabble, Humiliation, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Shame, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1940895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedneighbour/pseuds/crookedneighbour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roose and Ramsay have a good amount in common.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like His Father

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thrumugnyr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thrumugnyr/gifts).



Ramsay has always liked when he begs. It is not a surprise that his father enjoys it as well. Ramsay simply desires that he cowers and cries for mercy. Sometimes when Ramsay asks he can simply fade into the act of begging. Roose's requests are more specific, his words carefully laid traps. Ramsay is but a cat, toying with Theon before wetting his blade. But now his father, a spider, lies waiting, his knives tucked away by sleight of hand.

Theon stands in Lord Bolton's private quarters. There's hot wine in his belly, and Roose's cold eyes are on him.

"You enjoyed your drink?" Roose asks.

Theon nods. It's hard to look him in the eyes, so he keeps his head hung.

"Yes m'lord...." he answers quietly. Roose says nothing. Theon isn't sure what it means.

"I was very pleased with it," he adds. He needs to say the right thing. It's much harder to tell what the right thing is with Roose.

"Are you pleased often?" Roose asks with a tilt of his head.

Theon swallows.

"Oh yes. Reek is happy to serve his lordship and his house," Theon insists. Roose steps closer at this, his voice still low.

"So it would please you to serve me now?"

A hint of a smile passes over Roose's face as he speaks. Theon's heart beats hard in his chest, fearful of what Lord Bolton will ask of him this time.

"Anything you want of me. Happily. Please," Theon stammers. Roose is standing in front of him now. He moves, surveying him in a slow circle. When he reaches Theon's side he pauses, leaning into his ear.

"I know my bastard has taught you to appreciate a rough hand, but I can be gentle if you like," Roose offers, his hand snaking around Theon's waist. He squeezes his side gently enough it does not hurt.

Theon can feel tears behind his eyes, but it will be easier if he asks. Ramsay will beat him bloody for this either way, and it will be less painful if he submits now. His lord will like it if he asks bluntly, shows him that's what he really wants.

"I'd like you to use me gently this time.... F-fuck me slowly.... Like you would your wife."

His face burns, but the words still come.

"But you aren't my wife. You're just a cripple my bastard's made into his whore," Roose replies. He begins to strip his rags from him either way. His hands are icy, but their touch is light, brief flutters over Theon's skin.

Theon whines as Roose nudges him towards his bed. He lays on his belly, and the sheets are soft beneath him. Ramsay tends to take him on all fours, making him kneel on the stony floors.

"I'm whatever you bid me to be, m'lord," Theon sighs. He arches his hips back and spreads his legs slightly, offering himself. "Just take your time with me. Let me feel your cock in me the whole night if you must."

He would rather Roose finished quickly, but he must say the words. He has to.

"If you insist," Roose sighs. He looses his belt and undresses methodically, folding each item of clothes and placing it aside as it comes off.

Their hips press together and Theon can feel that the game has already roused his lord. Roose's fingers reach for delicate skin, teasing over the narrow curves of his waist and the dents at the base of his back. When he later enters Theon Roose's hands on his throat feel but a memory of a touch.

Roose takes his pleasure twice, and Theon lies on his back, spent. He does not ache now, but in time he wil.


End file.
